


Frame of Mind

by xenobia4



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Mutilation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-07-28 00:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16230617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenobia4/pseuds/xenobia4
Summary: Bodies of young men have been recovered in a small town in West Virginia. Initially believed to be drug-related, the BAU is called in when the deaths are shown to have a sexual element.During their investigation, the youngest member of the BAU goes missing, leaving the group to find him before he ends up as another victim.





	1. Unwelcomed Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to do a story centering around Spencer Reid for way too long.  
> Only recently have I decided to give it a go. 
> 
> The story will be structured like an episode (sounds weird, but hear me out) with "acts" instead of chapters.  
> Don't know why, but I kinda want to work with that concept.
> 
> Please let me know if this is worth continuing!

**ACT I:  
Unwelcomed Intervention**

A mixture of chatter and typing filled the Behavioural Analysis Unit in Quantico as case file upon case file was being filled and sorted. Phone conversations were proving that there was never a chance of rest for any section of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. In the corner desk closest to the back wall of offices sat Spencer Reid, his elbow on his desk as he studied the chessboard, contemplating the next move to play against himself. As he picked up the black rook, a hand on his shoulder caused him to jump and turn around.

The friendly eyes of Jennifer Jareau – or “JJ” as she was best known as – gazed down at him. Without having to verbalize it, she smiled, patted him on the shoulder and headed towards the briefing room. With one last glance down to his game, he moved the rook to take the place of the white bishop before getting up from his chair to follow after her.

Derek Morgan and Aaron Hotchner were already in the room, their attentions drawn as the two other profilers entered. Reid found his seat next to Morgan, who knocked his arm into his chest, receiving a classic half smile from the youngest member of the BAU. David Rossi came in with Penelope Garcia right on his heels, her steps fast as her royal blue heels clicked on the floor, her arm cradling a stack of folders, all with identical information to be passed out to each profiler.

“Good morning, my lovelies – or at least it would be, but we’re here and I know that’s not really a good thing,” Garcia went on in her fast-paced voice that she always held whenever her adrenaline kicked in over a violent case, as she passed out the folders to each member, sans Hotch, who already held a manila folder in his hands.

“So what’ve we got, mama?” Morgan asked as he flipped the folder open, the others following suit.

Paperclipped to the top was an image of a young, brown-haired male, eyes bruised, face swollen and bloody with ligature marks around his neck. The evidence sheet it was clipped to went over more details, including name, age and location they were found.

“Nothing good, I’m afraid,” she said as she grabbed the remote for the projector and turned it on, showing the image of the man blown up on the white screen. “Police in Beckley, West Virginia found the body of twenty-nine-year-old Joshua Reigns in the woods this morning – fourth victim in a year.”

JJ knitted her eyebrows together as she read over the case file, flipping through the files of the other victims that were ordered underneath the first. “Fourth? Why are we just hearing of it?”

“Well, you see—”

“Local police ruled the first killing as a drug deal gone bad. Heroin and methamphetamines are high among the locals, so related deaths don’t appear to be uncommon,” Hotch interjected, to which Garcia nodded, seeming relieved she did not have to be the one to explain.

As the team went through the pages, it was confirmed when the first three victims all had traces of heroin in their systems. What threw off the methodology, and was most likely the reason the local department asked for their help, was the fourth victim had no traces of drugs in his system, but was the same cause of death: strangulation. As they continued to read the reports, Garcia continued:

“The M.E found evidence of sexual abuse on our victim here, which had the investigation team wanting to re-examine the prior victims.”

Morgan looked up at her after following through with the other papers. “They all had the same internal markings?” Another nod of confirmation from their technical analyst. Each victim had burn marks in their anal cavity, which scorched all the way up to the lower intestine. “So we’re dealing with a sexual sadist.” Garcia inhaled deeply, before releasing it in another nod of the head. “Well, he clearly seems to have a type,” he commented, scanning through the photos of each victim, all which were Caucasian, male, slim build and with dark hair.

Though he missed it, everyone on the team had their eyes darting to the boy genius. While they were sure Reid picked up on the similarities, it was apparent he chose to ignore the heavy resemblance.

“Do they have any leads?” Reid asked, flipping through the images of the burn marks around the victim’s buttocks and inner thighs.

Garcia shook her head, despite Reid not glancing up. “It doesn’t look like.”

“Hence why they called us in,” Hotch interrupted. “I want everyone to go over the case file before we land. These small towns don’t usually like calling us in, so expect some hostility. Let’s try to keep it on track, all right?” The group nodded. “Get what you need. Wheels up in forty,” he said as he pushed his chair back and stood up with the file in his hand.

* * *

Morgan approached Reid, who was peering over the edge of a cliff, which was only a few hundred feet from the end of the small airport’s runway. Without being prompted, Reid came out with, “You know, statistically, the highest chance of something going wrong when flying are take-off and landing?” When he sensed Morgan giving him an off look, he turned to meet his gaze. “It’s when the most stress is put on the aircraft.”

Morgan’s eyebrows lifted as his mouth crooked. “Thanks for not telling me that until after we got off.”

The younger man gave him a confused look as Morgan shook his head and put his arm around his shoulders, leading the two of them towards the rest of the team, who were already headed into the airport.

Inside, the group was greeted by two of the local police officers, who were in the midst of talking to each other before the presence of the Federal Bureau became apparent. While one turned to the group, his demeanour welcoming, the other refused to look in their general direction. The officer, who appeared to be in his late thirties, held out his hand, shaking Hotch’s extended palm.

“You must be Agent Hotchner,” he said, to which Hotch nodded affirmatively. “I’m Sergeant Houser and this is my partner, PFC. Rhodes.” His partner finally turned to acknowledge them, though he did not offer the same sentiment.

“I wish we were meeting under better circumstances,” Hotch spoke as he took his hand back. “Sergeant Houser, these are Agents Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, Derek Morgan and Doctor Spencer Reid,” he motioned to each one of them.

The sergeant shook each of their hands, while his partner offered no more than a nod. “We’re to take y’all to the precinct. We don’t have a spare cruiser right now, so I hope y’all don’t mind splitting into two cars.”

With no objections, the group followed the two officers to the parking lot.

JJ, Morgan and Hotch decided to ride with Sergeant Houser, while Rossi and Reid rode with the private first class. The ride leaving the airport was peaceful enough, the road twisting and curving through the mountains with trees on both sides. It was only a few minutes before they reached the edge of town, and while Hotch and the others were given details about the reason they were there by Sgt. Houser, Pfc. Rhodes barely spoke to the agents in his own car, though it was not for lack of trying.

After a few minutes of nothing, Reid had opened his shoulder bag to take out the information relating the case, going over the information they were given before their arrival. Meanwhile, Rossi was attempting to start a conversation with the officer, who seemed adamant about staying quiet.

“How long have you been with your agency?” Rossi asked as he sat in the passenger seat, eyes on Rhodes, who merely shrugged.

“Since mid-March,” was the short response. Less than ten months under his belt, it was understandable for his lack of tact, though his persona still raised a few red flags.

Rossi nodded, gauging the body language of the young officer, which was stiff, his eyes focused on the road as both hands gripped the steering wheel.

“Do you enjoy it?”

The response he garnered was a nonchalant shrug. Rossi glanced to Reid in the back seat, who pursed his lips together.

“When you’ve got everyone breathing down your neck and expecting you to do everything just because you’re new, and condescending you every chance they get, refusing to listen – yeah. I enjoy the hell out of it.” Rhodes’ eyes never left the road as he took a right, leading up a large hill through what appeared to be a neighbourhood.

The agent’s eyebrows furrowed, waiting for the young man to continue, but when he did not, Rossi was going to ask him to elaborate.

Yet, Reid managed to speak up first: “What don’t they want to listen to?”

Rhodes’ eyes darted to the rear-view mirror, watching Reid’s concerned expression before he adverted his eyes back to the road. “Anything when you’re almost half their age.” Again, his eyes glanced in the mirror at Reid, whose expression was oddly sympathetic. “Tell them you’re concerned about someone and they say that “you’re too young to understand.” I guess you’ve had your run-ins like that,” he directed the statement to Reid, who barely nodded his head. He made a sideways glance to Rossi, who was reading into the information, his mind clearly at work. Rhodes inhaled, releasing it in one quick breath. “I told them after they found Gary that something didn’t sit right, asked them to look into it. Houser blew me off, kept going on about Gary being a junky, like he’s some goddamn saint.” At the final comment, Rhodes fell quiet, his knuckles turning white at saying more than he intended.

Gary Hayes.

The folder listed him as the second victim, which was ruled an accidental overdose. In the initial autopsy, there had been no mention of the burn marks or penetration. They had not been added until after the body was exhumed and reinvestigated. The way Rhodes talked about him, he had been an obvious friend or acquaintance. Seeing the young officer’s cheeks grow red only reaffirmed the read.

“Were you close with him?” Rossi asked, which was answered by silence.

The rest of the ride was done in silence, which only lasted a few minutes before they pulled up outside of the police station, which was a small building situated on top of a hill next to a Subway restaurant. The patrol car that Hotch and the others had been riding in was already parked on the side of the road behind another car. As the three exited the vehicle, Rossi headed directly to the building, while Reid took a moment to put the files back into the case around his shoulder.

While he was in the midst of putting the last folder in, Rhodes came up behind him.

“Agent,” he said, drawing Reid’s attention. “Four people who I’ve grown up around are gone. Gary was like my brother – we even graduated Woodrow together. Sure, he’d done some really stupid shit in his life, but he wasn’t a bad person.” Reid nodded, commenting that he knew the victim had been a decent person judging by the profile Garcia had given them on the plane. “Any supervisor ain’t gonna wanna listen to anything from people our age, I can tell you that right now. Even being a Fed, they won’t – I swear it. But please. Find out who took Gary from me.”

Before Reid could respond, the officer walked across the street to enter the precinct.

As he finished latching the satchel, his mind focused on what Rhodes had said; moreover, he was focused on the wording. The way he spoke about the victim, he was curious if the relationship Rhodes had with Gary was more than just friendship.

Entering the precinct’s lobby was like entering a sketchy doctor’s office: people were sitting in chairs that were worn from years of use, while the once-white tile had been stained yellow and black. Even the glass that separated the clerk from the room was smudged with fingerprints and grease. Reid followed Rhodes through a door between the clerk’s station and adjacent wall, where he could see Morgan and JJ in the hall beyond. The people that were in the lobby watched him as he walked through, most of their expressions confused as to why people in suits were heading into the station.

Once in the back, there were very few officers while a few desks held personnel. Hotch and the others were gathered towards the back, where he and the apparent captain were exchanging words. When the three of them approached, the captain’s hostility was difficult to ignore, while Hotch was in the midst of diffusing the situation.

“Sir, I understand that—”

“I don’t give a good goddamn about you or what the sheriff thinks,” the captain spat. “Just because you’re a fed doesn’t mean you can just come in and hijack our investigation with your team’s pseudoscience.”

“People in your town have been killed,” Hotch cut him off. “We’re not here to step over you or your officers, we’re here to help you find the person who’s abducting and killing the people you swore an oath to protect.”

Whatever rebuttal the captain had planned to say caught in his throat and, instead, he crossed his arms, exhaling in frustration. There was a thick air of silence between them before the captain sighed and dropped his arms.

“What information can you give us about the victims?” Hotch asked, following the captain into the back room his apparent office.

The rest of the team exchanged their looks before filing in after them.


	2. Crime Scene Analysis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bodies of young men have been recovered in a small town in West Virginia. Initially believed to be drug-related, the BAU is called in when the deaths are shown to have a sexual element.
> 
> During their investigation, the youngest member of the BAU goes missing, leaving the group to find him before he ends up as another victim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me for this taking so long! m(__ __)m  
> There has been a LOT going on in my personal life and I just couldn't find the will to work on this. 
> 
> But when I realized it had been over a MONTH since I put up that first chapter, I made myself finish.   
> Thank you so much for the feedback!! I hope this chapter was worth the wait!!

**ACT 2:  
Crime Scene Analysis**

An air of confusion filled the back room as JJ and Reid stared at the four thin envelopes carrying the information of the four victims. The officer who brought the case files was indifferent to the apparent lack of material as the two FBI agents were in near disbelief. While they had suspected that incomplete records were held, they had expected more than a few sheets of paper with the bare minimum to classify as a written report.

JJ turned to face the officer, who was watching Reid open the first envelope and take out the contents: two sheets of paper with fingerprints of the victim attached.

“Is this all you have?” JJ asked while her partner quickly read through the pages and moved to open the next packet.

The officer merely shrugged, his attention still following the young agent move on to the next. “They were junkies who OD’d. Not much to report on.”

“Actually, they were sexually assaulted, beaten and murdered,” Reid interjected as flipped through the three pages in the last file. “I’d say there was more than enough information to warrant additional investigations and evidentiary reports.”  

As Reid looked up to meet the officer’s gaze, there was a blatant anger building inside the man; his jaw became taut and his shoulders squared, subconsciously sizing-up the youngest member of the BAU. Reid’s confusion at the reaction was expected, whereas the officer found himself being disrespected by someone he believed had less experience in the field.

Before the older man had a chance to make a comment, JJ stepped in.

“Officer, could you do me a favour and please check to see if the toxicology report for Joshua Reigns has come in?” she asked, giving a reassuring nod, though it did not draw the officer’s attention from Reid.

Inhaling, he nodded his head in response, his jaw still clenched. Without a verbal response, he turned on his heel to leave the room, nearly running into Morgan and Rossi. He pushed passed Rossi who looked back at him while Morgan raised his brows at the officer’s hostile demeanour. Entering the room, Rossi made the comment;

“He seems happy.” JJ exhaled as she shook her head, while Reid was still in a state of confusion, uncertain as to what had transpired. He walked to the table holding the now-opened files. “Please don’t tell me this is it,” he said, spreading out the papers on the desk.

Drawing his attention back, Reid looked at the files on the desk to the one he was still holding. “Uh, they didn’t do any additional reports,” Reid trailed out as he handed the file to Rossi, whose brows furrowed. “Did you guys find out any information about our prior victims?”

The sigh Morgan released was enough to have both JJ and Rossi roll their eyes, knowing what was to come. “‘They were all drug addicts, got caught up in a deal gone wrong,’” he phrased what they had been told. “Anyone else think nothing about this sits right?” he asked, watching his group silently agree. “We’ve got four murders and everyone around here wants to pass it off as addicts OD’ing, even with evidence going against that. Is it possible someone in the department is involved?” Before any of them could comment, ringing emanated from Morgan’s pocket. The moment he took it out and saw the caller ID on his mobile, he answered it with, “Please tell me you can give me info, baby girl.”

“Oh, you know I aim to please, chocolate thunder,” Garcia’s voice broke through the speaker. “So get this, our first two victims, Andrew McMillion and Travis Freeman, were both frequent flyers at a rehab clinic on Robert C. Byrd Drive. And after a little digging, it turns out that our third victim, Gary Hayes, had attended the same clinic once back during the summer in July. Now, I’m not one to jump to conclusions, but that seems like a pretty big coincidence to me.”

The four BAU members in the room exchanged glances.

“What about our fourth victim, Joshua Reigns? Can you find anything about him attending this clinic?” Rossi asked, which was answered with a long groan from Garcia.

“I’m afraid not. The clinic requires a sign in, but they don’t need a real name. So there is a chance that he did at some point under a alternate. I’ll work my magic and see what I can find out.” With that said, she cut off the line.

The room fell silent with only the sifting of papers as Rossi flipped through the few pages filling it. Morgan looked to JJ, whose eyes were staring ahead, clearly in thought of how to go about getting the information they required; Reid had gone from confusion to confused determination, mind piecing together the information Garcia had given them with what they already knew of their victims. Yet, something was still missing, something that was not allowing the pieces to connect.

“Our first two victims were killed several months apart and had nearly identical burn and strangulation marks. Neither one had defensive wounds,” Rossi went over the case files from memory and got looks from the other BAU members. “For our UNSUB, everything was perfect: no struggling, no hesitation – nothing.”

Typically, first kills were the most disorganized as the offender had yet to gain their confidence and were figuring out their own pattern – it was something that would usually identify the initial victim. Yet, both Andrew McMillion and Travis Freeman, their first and second victims, were calculated and methodical. The lack of defensive wounds meant the UNSUB had either blitzed them or the victims knew them well enough to trust them. It was easy to understand why the causes of death were initially ruled as drug deal that had gone south.

“You think McMillion wasn’t the first?” JJ asked, her arms crossed over her chest as the thought sunk in.

“He couldn’t have been.”

“Given the load of information in these files, there’s a high probability there are more victims. Ones they never pieced together or just didn’t care enough to investigate.” What Morgan said was something they all had been thinking, though had yet to voice. It was apparent the police failed to be concerned over the deaths of known junkies, most likely content with having what they viewed as lowlifes off the streets and out of the community. “We need a record of all deaths ruled accidental overdose. Maybe we can find our first victim.”

Before anyone could respond, Hotch entered the room, mobile phone pressed to his ear. The expression on his face had the others knowing before he had to say it. He thanked whoever was on the other end and pressed end call. Looking up to his team, he exhaled.

“They found a fifth body,” he said, garnering empathetic expressions from the group. “Press has already caught wind and the police are trying to keep the site contained. The last thing we need is the UNSUB knowing we’re here due to the suspicion of homicide. JJ”—she perked up when called upon—“call a press conference. Let them think we’re here for drugs. If the UNSUB finds out we’re here because of him, he might try to leave.” She nodded. “Morgan, Reid, I want the two of you to check out the body and dump site. Pay attention to the responding officers. If one of them are involved, we need to find out. I already spoke with the captain and he’s allowing us to use one of their refurbished cruisers until the rentals come in. Rossi, I need your help talking to our victims’ families and finding out their personal history.”

With that said, they all moved to go to the respectable destinations.

* * *

The police cruiser pulled up at the end of a hill where two other cruisers and an ambulance were already. Morgan and Reid stepped out, shutting the doors and moving to where the road ended at the beginning of a steep dirt slope downwards into woods that had to have gone for miles. Police tape had been strung across two trees near the start of the hill, though there was a lack of police presence, something which both of the profilers found off-putting. They ducked under the tape, heading downwards and following the multiple shoe-prints in the dirt. The slope was steep, curving to the right into a deeper angle, having both men lean backwards to avoid falling forward.

Right before the decline ended, there was another path that inclined to their left. It was noted as the duo followed the sounds of talking to the right at the end. Even with the police presence, other than the tape that had marked the trees at the start of the path, there was no other tape to signify there was a crime scene. It bade the same air of indifference the profilers had already become accustomed to at the station.

Their existence was immediately pick up before they even came within full view of a crime scene investigator, a slender, middle-aged female with a blue jacket emblazoned with “CSI” on the front, who was talking to two police officers, a large man with a buzzcut and a stout female who could not have been more than mid-twenties. The trio stood near the edge of a running creek off the path, both the officers with their hands on their belts and the investigator with her arms crossed. The investigator motioned with their heard, drawing the two officers’ attention as both Morgan and Reid approached.

“Y’all must be the FBI agents. I’m Rachel Marland with the forensics unit in Charleston,” as she held out her hand.

“I’m Agent Derek Morgan”—Morgan shook her hand—“and Doctor Spencer Reid.” Reid held held up his hand. The two officers introduced themselves as Purdue, the large man, and Foss, the young woman. “Would you mind showing us the vic—”

“Oh, right,” she cut him off and turned, leaving the two officers and leading the profilers away, up the small hill from the creek and back to the dirt path they had come from. “From what I’ve gathered, we’re looking at a dump site. There’s no evidence to suggest he was killed on location; he has no defensive wounds that I could see.”

They followed her into a brush-covered path that derailed from the dirt one they had been on. A few feet in, they came upon their victim: a young, slender, brown-haired man in his early-twenties, body sprawled out on its back, clothes ripped and dishevelled, dark purple strangulation marks on the exposed neck. Reid’s gaze was on the path behind them and the continuation in the front of them, taking in the surroundings as Morgan and Marland focused on the body. The man’s arms were clear of any track marks, bruising or scratches, which only drove in the point of a blitz attack.

“You’re right about it being a dump site,” Reid said, his eyes scanning the ground to the victim. “There are drag marks through the grass like the UNSUB was struggling with our victim’s weight, but not his height. Given that our victim can’t weigh more than 170, I’d say our UNSUB is either of a similar build or fairly out of shape.”

Even as he gave his analysis, his eyes failed to rest on the body, instead catching looks in short glances. The rigidness in the young doctor had gone unnoticed by the investigator, but something Morgan found difficult to ignore, though he said nothing.

“Where does this path go?” Morgan asked as he looked at Marland.

She turned to look down the path. “It’s a semi-circle that ends up at the dirt path we came down.

“And where does that take us?”

Marland paused and pursed her lips together, trying to recall the map in her head. “If you go up a few hundred feet, to your right, there’s a path that splits off and goes up a hill that takes you to a dead-end street. If you keep straight on the path, instead, it should take you to some train tracks. It’s an old track originally used for coal trains, but is now used occasionally for cargo freights.” She paused before continuing. “Actually, if you get on those tracks and go right, you can walk all the way to Charleston. It goes around Beckley, even by the high school. If you go left, you can walk to Raleigh, which is a dilapidated ol’ coal mining town.”

“So these woods go on for a while,” he reiterated.

“Oh, honey. You could hide a body for hundreds of miles in these woods where no one would ever find them. By our perp ditching the body here, they wanted it to be found.” She pointed around to the paths. “These paths are travelled on quite a bit by kids, teens and hunters, and not just people from Beckley.”

“Is it possible that our UNSUB is from a surrounding county?” Reid asked as his eyes fell upon the bruising on the man’s exposed lower-abdomen. She shrugged to insinuate the prospect.

Marland’s name was heard from back down the path.

The investigator released a sigh. With an apology to the BAU members, she left their presence, leaving them to analyse the scene without interference. Silence fell as the body and its surroundings were looked over, being studied for any form of clue that would lead the possible identity of the UNSUB. They were organized, that much was certain, but they cared nothing for their victims, discarding them as though they were nothing more than trash to be picked up on the side of the road. It was the question as to how they were transporting the bodies without notice and why did they choose young men who all looked eerily similar.

As Morgan went over the body, looking for anything that would give them something to go off of, Reid’s eyes had finally trailed to the young man’s face, studying the sharp cheekbones, the long neck, the light brown hair—

“Reid,” Morgan said, catching him off guard. “Are you okay?” Bringing his attention to the ground in front of him, he nodded, trying to act as though he was looking for possible traces left by the unknown subject. Seeing his expression, Morgan grabbed his shoulder, having him face him as he placed both hands on his shoulders. “Hey, I know you see yourself in our victims”—Reid swallowed hard at an attempt to keep his reaction hidden—“but you know it’s not gonna happen to you, right?” Even though he nodded, his eyes were darting to the side, avoiding the prying eyes of his co-worker. Seeing the reaction, Morgan grabbed the side of Reid’s neck and jaw, peering into his face. “Pretty boy, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, all right? None of us are.” Reid forced a smile, something Morgan took at face value. “Now, come on. We need that big brain of yours to focus, so don’t go bailing on us now.”

The chuckle that came from the younger man’s throat was enough to make Morgan smile.

Even as ringing emanated from his pocket.


	3. Victimology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bodies of young men have been recovered in a small town in West Virginia. Initially believed to be drug-related, the BAU is called in when the deaths are shown to have a sexual element.
> 
> During their investigation, the youngest member of the BAU goes missing, leaving the group to find him before he ends up as another victim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone~!!  
> I am SO sorry this took so long! m(__ __)m
> 
> I've been slowly working on it since chapter 2, but my muse kept slamming into brick walls. 
> 
> I even binged watched seasons 1-4 to help, which gave me GREAT ideas!!  
> ...for a different fic. (-- --)  
> ("Race Traitor" is the title, if y'all are interested)
> 
> Anywho!  
> I hope this chapter was worth the wait!

**ACT 3:**

**Victimology**

Rossi picked up a framed photograph that was sitting on the back of a piano. The photo was of a young man and two elders, his parents, standing in front of a classic car in what appeared to be a mall parking lot. The living room he and Hotch were left in was filled with various knickknacks, photographs and old furniture, making the room feel small and stale. It was the second family they had visited, the first going in all the wrong ways. While the current family, the Freemans, had been more than willing to assist their son Travis in his rehabilitation from heroin, Joshua Reigns’ family had appeared to be emotionally immune to their son’s struggles; when they were asked about his life, the mother refused to speak on it, only talking about how her son was as a child. The father was adamant about disagreeing with his son’s way of life, commenting that “Joshua knew what he was getting into” when it came to his drug addiction. However, it was not until Rossi queried about Joshua’s sexuality when both he and Hotch were dismissed from the home.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, Mrs. Freeman had been open about her son’s life, though she was adamant about Travis not being interested in men, even giving Hotch and Rossi the contact information of Travis’ then-girlfriend. When they inquired about his group of friends, they were told he did not have many and only one that he seemed close with – a young man by the name of Aaron Williamson, who had been frequenting the Freeman’s home since the death of their victim. The conversation was short and Rossi inquired if Travis had kept a log or a journal in hopes there would be information about Travis having possibly met the UNSUB prior to his abduction and murder.

Footsteps drew their attention to the entryway behind them and Rossi returned the photo to its resting place. Mrs. Freeman, a portly, middle-aged woman, rounded the corner from the hallway. In her hand was a leather-bound journal.

“Mr. Rossi,” she said as she approached him, clutching the journal with both hands. “Promise you’ll take care of it – Travis never did like it when people went through his things.” As she spoke, her voice broke, though she quickly willed it away.

“You have my word.” She smiled and handed it to him.

“Mrs. Freeman,” Hotch drew her attention. “You mentioned Travis’ friend coming over a lot after your son’s passing. When was the last time he stopped by?”

She pursed her lips together, thinking back. “I’d say it’s been a least a week.” He and Rossi exchanged looks. “But Aaron has his own life to live. I kept telling him he didn’t need to come over, but he’s such a nice kid and insisted on helping me with the yard work. With my baby gone, I struggle doing it myself, but I manage.”

“Were they close? Travis and Aaron?” Hotch asked, receiving a nod in response.

“Oh, inseparable,” she laughed at an apparent memory. “All throughout high school, people kept thinking they were brothers, and if you saw them side-by-side, you’d swear they were twins. Actually, it was Aaron who introduced Travis to Jessica”—Travis’ then-girlfriend—“and the three of them became really close. My baby was planning on proposing to her – kept talking about getting a ring and how Aaron was going to be his best man.” Her eyes started to turn red as she reminisced.

“Do you happen to have his contact information?”

She shook her head. “No, but I know he lives in East Beckley.”

She gave them a general description of how to get to the area and the house Aaron and his family resided in, explaining how she used to pick her son up from the house before he had his own means of transportation. They declined her offer to lead them there, thanking her for her help as she walked them out. After ensuring once more that her son’s journal would be treated with respect and returned, they left the porch and she closed the door behind them.

A police officer stood out front, leaning against a cruiser with his arms crossed as he watched the two FBI agents exit.

Rossi furrowed his brows together as they approached. “If Travis and Aaron resemble each other to that extent—”

“Aaron Williamson may very well be our UNSUB’s next target,” Hotch finished the string of thought. “Meaning we need to find him before they do.” Giving the description of the house and location to the officer, neither one seemed phased when the officer knew the house and the street it was on, though Rossi had made a comment about “loving small-town reliability” to Hotch’s amusement.

The cruiser turned out of the neighbourhood, passing by what appeared to be a rundown elementary school and a well-maintained middle school merely feet from each other. The parking lot to the middle school had several vehicles present and kids could be seen running on the track surrounding a football field at the crest of a hill. As they turn down a hill, Hotch’s phone began ringing. Seeing the name on the screen, he answered and pressed it to his ear.

“What’ve we got, Morgan?”

“It’s our guy, Hotch.”

Hotch released a breath, clearly aggravated at the loss of life and their investigation garnering no headway. “Do we have an ID?”

“Not yet. They’re taking the body to the coroner’s office, now.”

The first four victims were months apart, but here was a fifth victim merely a week after the murder of Joshua Reigns. Something was making the UNSUB accelerate at an alarming rate and it had him concerned that they would attack within an even shorter time frame. His train of thought was met with Morgan coming out with;

“This guy’s cool down period as decreased. At this rate, he’ll strike again in a few days.” He heard Morgan sigh over the phone. “There can’t be that many people in this town who fit our UNSUB’s type – did you all come up with any leads?”

“An Aaron Williamson might be a target. Rossi and I are headed to his house, now.” There was silence over the line. “Morgan—”

“Hotch, I think we need to make sure Reid always has an escort while we’re here. Small town, we’re sure to encounter him at least once, and if he sees Reid? It’ll be like a moth to a flame for this guy.”

The way he spoke, Hotch knew Morgan was uncertain of the response, so he could have seen his co-worker’s reaction when he replied, “I agree.” He glanced to Rossi through the rear-view mirror, whose expression was curiosity. “If he’s not with us, he’s with an officer.” The response had Rossi nodding as his own eyes were cast towards the officer driving the vehicle, who appeared inquisitive at the conversation’s subject, but said nothing. “Contact Garcia and have her keep a track on his phone to be safe.”

There was silence before Morgan said, “He’s not gonna be happy about this.”

“I’d say it’d be best not to tell him, but he needs to be aware of the situation.” Hotch glanced to the officer driving, then in the mirror to Rossi, who had raised his brows, putting the pieces of the conversation he could hear together. “Let us know when you have an ID on our victim.” With that said, he ended the call.

Releasing a sigh, Rossi asked, “Reid?” Hotch nodded and Rossi looked out the window as they took a turn onto a steep incline. “Never a dull moment.”

The cruiser began slowing down as they approached a brick house that fit the description Mrs. Freeman had given.

“That can’t be good,” the officer said as he pulled behind a cruiser with its lights on out front of the home.

* * *

“How’d the press conference go?” Morgan asked as JJ walked into the back office.

She shook her head and glanced to Reid, who was going over the various crime scene photos both Marland and the county coroner had sent to the precinct. “Everyone wanted to know why the “FBI took so long to deal with the methamphetamine epidemic”. Not one person asked about any of our victims.” Both men knitted their eyebrows in disbelief. “How do you have five murders in less than a year and the public doesn’t bat an eye. Drug-related or not, you think more people would care; especially in a small town where everyone knows each other.” She sighed and crossed her arms. Seeing the files laid out on the table, she motioned with her head. “What did you find out?”  

Morgan leaned forward on the table while Reid flipped through the pages. “Going by the marks on our most recent victim, our UNSUB seems to be getting more confident in what he’s doing.” JJ walked up to him, her palm on a cluster of photos as she spread them out. “There’s bruising on the abdomen that wasn’t on any of our prior victims. There are also broken blood vessels around both wrists and ankles, which could indicate bruising by restraints being used, but the UNSUB hasn’t used restraints with our priors, so it may be a change in his M.O.”

JJ’s eyes glanced over the photos, her eyes focusing on each point said – the light bruising around the extremities, the dark circular marks on the stomach, and the red and white marks on the inner thighs.

She paused, her look curious.

“What is this?” she asked, focused on the markings.

Before Reid could respond, Morgan cut in. “Blistering on our vic’s inner thighs from whatever he was sodomized with. We’re still not sure what’s being used, but the burns internally are deeper than our prior victims.”

She cringed at the thought. “These poor kids. Were you able to identify him?”

“They’re running his prints, now.”

She nodded at the response. As she went through the photos and information, there was a light rap on the office door. All three turned to the door, seeing a uniformed officer peering into the room.

“Agent Jareau?” JJ stood straight, taking her hand off the file. “There’s a call for you on line 3 from a Mr. Farrow. He’s requesting to speak with you directly.”

“Thank you.” With one more look to Reid and Morgan, she followed the officer from the room.

With JJ gone, silence enveloped the two other agents. While Reid went back to the case files, searching over possibly overlooked information, Morgan found himself watching his young co-worker. He knew what he was about to say would cause a negative reaction, but it was either tell him now or have him be told in a room full of people, something that would cause an even worse reaction. Taking in a breath, he leaned his forearms on the table.

“Hey, Reid.” The younger man made an audible noise to acknowledge him without looking up. “With this many people being abducted and killed, his victim pool’s gotta be getting smaller.” Reid nodded, his fingers on one image as his eyes darted back-and-forth. He paused, watching Reid, who was completely oblivious to what Morgan was getting at. There was no other way than to be as blunt as possible. “Reid, we think it’d be best if you had an escort at all times as long as we’re here.”

Reid’s initial reaction was to nod, but Morgan watched as his body language changed. His brows furrowed in confusion before lifting his head to meet the dark and concerned eyes of the seasoned agent. It took him a moment to gauge Morgan’s credibility, only to go back to the case files, flipping through them.

“I’m more than capable of handling myself, but thanks for the concern,” Reid said hastily, tone clearly showing signs of aggravation.

“Reid—”

“Look, Morgan, I appreciate the concern, but I’m not some victim who can’t defend himself. I’m – I’m – I’m a trained FBI agent! I think I can handle myself.” He slammed his palm on top of the file picture of Joshua Reigns, the very victim who resembled him the most. “And I don’t need you, or Hotch, or _anyone_ monitoring every move I make!” He and Morgan locked eyes. While his held nothing but frustration and hurt, Morgan’s were nothing but concern.

Not another word was spoken.

Reid stood up, pushing his chair back. With one last look to Morgan, he left the room, exuding nothing but aggravation.

Morgan sighed, releasing a breath he was not even aware he had been holding as he ran his hands down his face. He had alerted the desk clerk about the situation when he and Reid arrived back to the station; it was something Reid would be hostile towards if he was followed outside by an official. Even knowing it was for his co-worker’s protection, he could not help but feel guilty about how it had gone about.

Reid was still gone when Hotch and Rossi returned to the precinct a little over an hour later. JJ had been kept busy with various phone calls, some dead ends, others paranoia induced, and a few that would require further investigation. Hotch commented about Reid’s notable absence. Before Morgan could even respond, Rossi had suggested that their boy genius most likely was not too fond of having a personal tracker, to which garnered the typical “it’s for the best” line from their supervisor.

“Were you guys able to find any other information from the families?”

“Apparently, three of our victims all knew each other,” Rossi answered before following it up with, “from what the families knew. I’m beginning to think all of our victim’s had more of a connection than their similarities.”

“There was the rehab clinic,” Morgan said, going back over the information Garcia had found.

“But that still doesn’t account for Reigns. Did we get the ID or toxicology report from our recent victim?” Morgan shook his head. “So we don’t even know if our UNSUB’s M.O is a permanent shift or a one-off thing.”

Footsteps drew their attention to the entryway to see JJ and Reid enter together, a manila folder in Reid’s hand. He handed to folder to Hotch, who flipped the first page, seeing an image of the victim Morgan and Reid had been sent to look over.

“Prints came back on our fifth victim; an Aaron Williamson.”

The ID had Rossi sighing.

When he and Hotch had arrived at the Williamson household, they already suspected something was amiss when there was already a cruiser our front. What they walked in on was a very irate father and a mother who was a complete mess, barely able to form coherent sentences through bouts of sobs. Anytime the mother tried to speak, the father would yell at her, saying things were “her fault”. It took a few minutes, but between the two officers and Hotch and Rossi, they were able to get the two separated. Hotch went with one officer to talk to the father, while Rossi and the officer that drove them talked to the mother.

The initial police responder was there due to a domestic call after neighbours heard the duo yelling at each other in the front yard. After they were separated, Mrs. Williamson said how she believed her son, Aaron, was missing, while her husband believed their son to be a drug addict who disappeared for a few days and would be back, begging for money. The argument began when she wanted to file a missing person’s report.

He hated knowing that they would have to deliver the news to the already distraught woman, though he wondered if the father would even be phased.

“Were they able to give a time of death?”

“Estimated between twenty-two to twenty-four hours,” Reid replied as Hotch went through the report.

Hotch closed the folder and handed it off to Morgan. “Which means our UNSUB is either looking for another victim or already has one. Do we have any idea who our UNSUB might be targeting next?”

Rossi raised his brows. “Aaron Williamson was our best lead,” he said with a tone of aggravation and defeat. “Any word from Garcia?” He watched as JJ shook her head.

They were right back where they started with no leads, no suspects, no information other than what they were given when they arrived that morning. Hotch and Rossi went over their encounters and interviews with the various families, while Morgan and Reid relayed what they could gather from the crime scene, including the lack of markings, the few officers they did see and the Crime Scene Investigator the town had brought in from Charleston. JJ had not fared much better helping to answer phone calls. Whenever there seemed to be a possible lead, the description the person had given of the missing person did not fit their UNSUB’s type.

While in the midst over going over the information collected, an attractive, middle-aged corporal entered the room, drawing their attention.

“Excuse me,” they said, obvious discomfort in the mannerisms, most likely due to being in a room full of unknown people who outranked them. “The Captain sent me to tell y’all we’re closin’ up for the night.”

At the relay, none of the agents were able to mask their confusion.

It was obvious the corporal did not understand their reactions.

“You shutdown?” JJ asked, voicing the very question plaguing everyone.

The corporal made eye contact with her for a fraction of a second before darting around to the other agents. Both Morgan and Rossi found themselves trying to stifle their reactions at the man’s obvious intimidation around both an intelligent and attractive woman.

“Uh, yes, ma’am,” their voice nearly cracked, despite the haste they spoke. “We close down at 19:00, but, uh – if someone needs something, they get connected to one of our nightshift officers when they call in.”

Everyone in the room exchanged glances.

“All right, so, we’ll pack it up here for the night,” Hotch said, which the corporal took as his cue to leave. “Let’s reconvene at the hotel and we’ll go from there.”

JJ was taking pictures of the reports and physical evidence on her mobile before everything was placed in its corresponding file. It was not until they were wrapping up when they noticed the lack of both their unit chief and genius. JJ knitted her eyebrows together in confusion, but when she saw Morgan sigh and shake his head and Rossi shrug, she knew she was the only one out of the loop.

After a short rundown, they left the room, and headed through the precinct back to the main lobby. There, they saw the clerk finishing paperwork behind the glass at the desk, three officers talking and laughing about the more comedic calls they had received throughout the last week, and Hotch talking to one of the first people they had met upon arrival, Sergeant Houser. Reid’s absence was something that was not overlooked. Instead of approaching the duo, Rossi left the lobby, a cool breeze blowing in as the door shut behind him. The outside road could be seen through the door, despite the public unable to look in due to the one-way glass.

They could see Reid outside of a cleaner-looking Crown Victoria than the one the team had been allowed to use while they waited on the rentals. Rossi crossed the street and approached him, the younger man’s posture become closed-off and defensive as he took his satchel off and placed it on the passenger’s side of the car. They exchanged a few words, but Hotch pulled their attention away.

“Thank you for understanding, Sergeant,” he as the two of them shook hands.

“It’s not a problem. We’ll meet y’all at the Courtyard.” With a nod of acknowledgement to both Morgan and JJ, the Sergeant left the building, another gust of wind sweeping through the lobby.

Houser approached Rossi and Reid, and while Reid’s mouth moved before getting into the passenger seat of the cruiser, Rossi and Houser exchanged a few words.

“Reid will meet us at the hotel,” Hotch said in response to their stares.

Though Morgan’s response was a look of incredulity, JJ’s was an honest one of understanding.

After what she had been told, Jennifer Jereau understood Spencer’s reaction. Though the others did as well, seeing their youngest member want to have a moment to himself to think about the situation – along with the case – it was the way his mind worked and was difficult to argue with. At the very least, she was concerned that Reid had not confided in her. Granted, it was typically a tossup between her or Morgan on who he would disclose information to, but in emotional situations, it was usually her who he came to. Even still, it was not uncommon for him to keep his frustrations to himself, until they came to a head.

Rossi was seen shaking hands with the sergeant before the Beckley official got into the vehicle, Reid clutching his satchel to his chest as the car started up. As the car started up and pulled out onto the road, the trio inside watched as the cruiser disappeared down the hill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you still enjoy it! (^ ^)


	4. Analytics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bodies of young men have been recovered in a small town in West Virginia. Initially believed to be drug-related, the BAU is called in when the deaths are shown to have a sexual element.
> 
> During their investigation, the youngest member of the BAU goes missing, leaving the group to find him before he ends up as another victim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter my seem short considering the wait,   
> but believe me when I say a lot of changes have gone on,   
> resulting in this story taking a bit of a different direction. 
> 
> It won't be a bad thing!  
> I promise!! (^ v ^)

**ACT 4:  
Analytics**

The cruiser made a left at the light, pulling onto the main six land road. The two had made light conversation, with Houser taking over most of the talking, mainly asking about where Reid was from, when did he join the BAU – typical small talk amongst strangers. When Reid returned the questions, he discovered Houser was grandfathered in and had been an officer shortly after graduating high school. At the time, the State of West Virginia did not require new cadets to attend the Police Academy. It explained the rift between the older and younger officers, but only as far as office politics were concerned. When Reid queried if the difference caused tension, Houser shrugged.

“With some officers, sure. There weren’t as many rules and regulations back then, so when ya got rookies coming back from the Academy, they’re quick to nit-pick. Drives some of the sups crazy.” He laughed at the apparent thought.

“It doesn’t seem to bother you,” Reid said, to which Houser merely shrugged.

“It did at first, but times are changing and it’s either adapt or get left behind.”

Reid nodded.

The ride was not was he was expecting, though that was not necessarily a bad thing. Houser seemed sincere and honest enough, not at all how Rhodes had described, though there was still the chance it was a façade.

They made a right shortly before a gas station, turning onto a narrow two-lane road that wound up a steep incline. With the sun already disappeared behind the mountains, the quieter and darker road was somewhat off-putting. For a moment, Reid found himself uncomfortable – sitting in a vehicle with a possible suspect in unfamiliar territory. He had to remind himself that tabs were being kept on both the GPS on his phone and the cruiser, and that the team was only a few minutes behind them. Even with that knowledge, he started regretting offering to ride with the Sergeant.

“How long have you and Officer Rhodes been working together?” he asked, trying to break some of the anxiety crawling its way across his chest.

At the question, Houser inhaled and shifted in his seat.

“Four months.”

The answer had Reid knitting his brows. “I thought he joined in March?”

“He had three months of desk training before going to the Academy. He’s got the potential to be a good officer, but he jumps at every shadow like it’s gonna bite him. He’ll be fine, though, I’m sure,” he said, though it was more directed to himself than the federal agent. An awkward silence fell. The cruiser picked up speed, despite the sharp turns. “You’re a young kid,” his voice cut through the silence as he glanced at Reid. “I’m sure you get nervous, what with your team being older and more experienced.”

“Not really, no,” was the immediate response.

Houser chuckled.

The headlights came on as the last slivers of sunlight started to fade. With the Sergeant driving over what was deemed a safe speed for the sharp turns, Reid was pressing himself into the seat, his knuckles nearly white from gripping his satchel and door handle, and his eyes moving from the road in front to the rundown buildings and woods on his right. When a vehicle passed by them going the opposite direction and flashed their headlights, Houser began letting off the gas and slowing down. Once they reached the crest of the hill, Reid released a breath he did not know he was holding.

“Rhodes was saying how he wanted further investigation after Gary Hayes was found.” When he saw Houser nod, Reid followed up with, “Why wasn’t there?”

Houser gripped the wheel and shook his head. “Gary was a well-known junkie. When he went missing for a little while, no one bothered to look into it. He’d make trips to New York to buy his stuff and disappear for few days, so it ain’t like everyone wasn’t used to him being gone. He claimed he got clean for a few months, but then he disappeared again. Everyone just figured he was off buying drugs and getting high. When he turned up dead, most of us at the station were shocked he even lasted as along as he did.”

“Except Officer Rhodes,” Reid muttered and Houser nodded.

“Rhodes was adamant about how Gary was clean, wouldn’t have gone back – he kept begging me to talk to the Captain about pursuing it.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah,” he said in a sigh. “Didn’t want to waste resources on a cut-and-dry case.”

As the cruiser approached an intersection in a residential neighbourhood, Reid absorbed the information. Houser clearly had no part in the corruption that was infecting various areas of the department, but he was also a man to bow to his superiors, while still attempting to watch over the newer members without raising many flags. Following the history of the victims, of course the sergeant would believe they were junkies who accidentally overdosed; he had no reason to think otherwise. However, given the man’s position, he knew more than he realized, or more than he was willing to let on. It stood to reason that Houser would be their best lead to finding the person or people involved in an apparent coverup.

Approaching the intersection, Reid glanced out the window. There was a dark blue car speeding down the residential road, gaining speed as they approached the stop sign. Just as Reid called out to Houser, there was the sound of screeching from the cruiser as the blue car collided with the passenger side. The police car skidded across the road, making contact with a telephone pole on the left side of the road, causing the driver’s side to collapse.

The world was fuzzy as Reid’s eyes opened, groaning as he turned to get a glimpse of Houser. The sergeant was unconscious, his body slumped across the steering wheel. Reid tried to get his bearings straight, a loud ringing sounding in his ears as he clamped his eyes shut. As his head fell back on the neck rest, vision hazy, he saw a figure running towards the car. He could hear panic filling a familiar voice calling out if they were all right. The last thing he saw before the corners of darkness took over was black, shined shoes.

* * *

“I’ll figure it out on the way there,” Reid said to Rossi as he began to take his satchel from around his shoulders. “I already discussed it with Hotch.”

“I know.” Rossi inhaled, shaking his head as he stared at the ground. “Just watch yourself.” Reid put his satchel in the passenger seat. “We have Garcia tracking your phone, as well.” He set his hands on his hips, the younger man crossing his arms to give off the air of being frustrated.

They knew they were being watched, forcing Reid to maintain the aggravated demeanour, while Rossi appeared to be trying to calm him down. Houser was one of the officers Rhodes mentioned having a hostile attitude towards younger officers. People did not guard their words as much whenever they were around people the deemed inferior. If the senior officers were refusing to look into crimes simply because of their lack of respect towards the one who made the suggestion, they would have to essentially bait them into revealing themselves. The sooner they could identify which officers, the sooner they could figure out which of them, if any, were a possible suspect.

Footsteps drew their attention. When Reid scoffed, Rossi did not even have to look to know it was the sergeant.

“Then explain it on the ride to the hotel,” Rossi said, his hands in front of him in a faux attempt to calm Reid.

“I’ll be fine, thanks,” he snapped before climbing into the passenger seat.

Rossi sighed just as the officer called to him, “Agent Rossi.” He turned to face him. “Did y’all find out anything today?”

Rossi shook his head, eyes darting to Reid through the cruiser’s window. “We think we might have a few leads. Hopefully, we can find out more information and have a suspect before our UNSUB decides to take another victim.”

Houser nodded, his body language welcoming and seeming elated at the thought. The reaction was enough for any other person to clear him from being involved, but it very well could have been an act. Something that could not be ruled out of the realm of possibility. The two of them shook hands, with Houser thanking him for him and the team coming up to help. They parted ways, Houser climbing into the driver’s seat, starting up the car and pulling off down the hill. Rossi watched the car drive through the light at the bottom of the hill before disappearing around an inclining curb.

When he turned to return to the department’s lobby, the trio of agents were exiting.

“What do you think?” Hotch asked Rossi upon the approach.

The older agent inhaled, releasing it as his made eye contact. “Houser seems sincere, but we’ll find out more from Reid when we meet up at the hotel.” The exchange caused mixed reactions from both JJ and Morgan. Seeing their reactions, Rossi knitted his brows. “You didn’t tell them?”

“Haven’t had the chance.” He directed his attention to the others. “Reid offered to ride with Sergeant Houser in hopes of gaining intel on members of the department. If the rumours are true, he might say something to Reid that would offer insight if one or more officers are involved in either hiding evidence or linking to our UNSUB.” Morgan shut his eyes and sighed in aggravation, while JJ nodded in an odd showing of disappointed understanding. “Garcia’s tracking his phone and the GPS in Houser’s cruiser,” he responded to the unasked question.

“What if Houser’s involved? We just sent Reid off with a possible UNSUB,” Morgan interjected.

“I have my doubts,” Rossi commented.

“If he is involved, he’s not going to do anything when all eyes are on him.” Hotch’s reassurance did little to put Morgan at ease, but he was right. If Houser was somehow involved, with everyone knowing he and Reid were together, he would not try anything. Still, Morgan could not shake the feeling that something was amiss.

Within a few minutes, the four of them were piled into the spare cruiser and following a GPS to the hotel. Making a right at a gas station, which Rossi jokingly suggested was the very place the addicts in the area scored, they were heading up a steep incline. The sun was setting low behind the trees as they passed by what appeared to be an old motel converted to a restaurant. There was an SUV behind the cruiser, staying a few yards back from the marked car, their headlights turning on as the sun set further and the sky grew darker. They were moving slowly through a neighbourhood, now. The SUV had turned down a street, the gleam of their headlights disappearing from the cruiser’s cab.

As they rounded a curve, JJ leaned forward in the front passenger seat, her brow creased as she stared well ahead.

“Hotch, slow down. Looks like there’s something blocking the road,” she said as their headlights flickered off of a reflective surface.

The car began slowing down, both Morgan and Rossi leaning forward in the backseat. “What is that?” Rossi asked more to himself as they drew closer. As the car rolled within a few feet, the headlights caught the reflection of _Police_ across the bumper. “That’s Houser’s car.”

Before they even came to a stop, both Morgan and Rossi were out of the car, weapons drawn. Hotch and JJ were right behind. There was a large dent on the passenger side, the windows cracked and broken. Coming up from behind, the back windshield was shattered, but intact. The driver’s side had collided with a telephone pole, bending it inwards. The door on the passenger side was opened, though the door itself was caved it. Hotch and Morgan went around the driver’s side, while JJ and Rossi went around to the passenger’s side. Gaining visual into the cruiser, Houser was slumped over the wheel, blood pooling onto the steering wheel from his forehead; however, Reid was absent, his satchel sitting in the floorboard of the passenger seat.

“Sergeant Houser,” Hotch called into the vehicle as JJ cleared the backseat. “Sergeant Houser, can you hear me?” He glanced to JJ who nodded. Leaning across the passenger seat, Hotch reached for the sergeant’s neck, feeling for a pulse. “Call an ambulance!” he called over his shoulder; though it was a moot point, whereas Rossi was already on the phone.

There was a groan as Houser turned his head. Hotch called to him once more as the sergeant picked his head from the wheel and held it with his hand.

“Doctor Reid, are you okay?” was the first thing out of his mouth.

It had Hotch tighten his jaw.

“Sergeant Houser, it’s Agent Aaron Hotchner. You’ve been in an accident. EMS is on the way.” He watched as Houser nodded.

“Doctor Reid,” he muttered, his voice becoming distant. “Your agent – is he okay? Car came outta nowhere…,” he trailed off, slumping back down as he lost coherency.

“Does anyone have eyes on Reid?” Hotch called as he ducked out of the car.

He caught JJ, who shook her head. His eyes darted around to the other members. Rossi had gone from reporting the incident to kneeling a few feet from the car, inspecting broken glass and the black marks from a set of tires. Morgan was across the street at the intersection, as though trying to gauge where another vehicle could have hit the cruiser. He saw the young agent rub his forehead before resting his hands on the back of his head. Tracing his gaze back to JJ, he could see the panic flooding her persona.

What had been a possible threat had become an absolute.

Time was of the essence.

**Author's Note:**

> In all seriousness, please let me know if this is worth continuing!  
> It's my VERY FIRST Criminal Minds fic and I want to know if I'm any good at it. (>.<)


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